The Sidus Tablet
by elel88
Summary: My best (and longest) work yet. Set in the future, Harry has partial amnesia, and muggles know more than what they let on.
1. Default Chapter Title

The Sidus Tablet  
  
Prologue  
  
A young man leaned over a chunk of grey-green stone, chisel in hand. He chipped at it slowly, making sure every detail was accomplished, every blemish smoothed out.  
  
He stood back and admired his work; it was a perfect stone tablet. He blew on it softly to rid of the dust and patted it fondly. On it, he carved five letters.  
Sidus.  
He placed it lovingly on a bed of moss and gave it one last glance. He started to clean up the stone chips when a small, razor thin one cut his hand. He didn't notice.   
He stood up and looked at the tablet again. The blood was beginning to pool slightly on the tip of his finger. The surface tension broke, the drop of red falling onto the stone. As if an invisible hand was etching onto it, a few phrases appeared. He stared.  
  
I know your greatest desire. To achieve it, combine earth, wind, water and fire. Let me live, I will reward you. Leave me silent, no more will you dream.  
  
Dear god, he thought. Did it really know his greatest desire? He shuddered. Earth, wind, water and fire, he mused.  
  
The next day, he collected soil and water. Throwing them onto he fire he had built, he waited for the cold winds to blow the flames higher. A sudden burst of red, and the fire went out. He ran back inside and looked at the tablet again. It simply said.  
  
Immortal  
  
*****  
Maria Sue  
  
  
A man in a ratty winter jacket walked alongside the brick wall. He was hunched over with his hands in his pockets. His steps were reckless, unlike the careful steps of those around him; avoiding the slush and cracks on the sidewalk.  
  
Perhaps it was the knowledge that it didn't matter if he sprained an ankle or not. He had all the time in the world.  
  
Time was no longer an enemy. He had defeated time a long, long time ago. It no longer affected him.  
  
He shivered, pulling the jacket closer and stopped in front of an official office building. Laughing silently, he pressed the door open.  
  
"Please show identification." Said a uniformed guard. This time he laughed out loud. It wasn't a pleasant sound. His laugh was harsh, grating and ridiculing. He decided to play along.  
  
"I'm Lysander."  
  
"Last name?"  
  
"Not telling."  
  
"Your age?" asked the guard tolerably. Another troublemaker, he thought.  
  
"That's a deep, dark secret. Let's just say for now I'm much, much older than you."  
  
"Can I see your driver's license?" the guard placed his hand on his walkie-talkie out of instinct.  
  
"Drive? I don't drive. I walk. And why are you nervous about me?"  
  
"Excuse me, nervous? And since you have failed to provide me with any form of identification, I cannot allow you to enter." The guard squirmed uncomfortably. His neck itched. He placed his other hand on his gun. Just in case, he thought. Just in case.  
  
The other man laughed and pushed past the guard. The guard jumped in front of him holding the gun in his hand.  
  
"Freeze." He ordered, waving the gun menacingly. Sweat trickled down his back. He should really ask his boss for a raise.  
  
"Do I have to hurt you?" asked the man.  
  
The guard didn't know how to answer. He took out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Trouble in front entrance. Troublemaker."  
  
"Troublemaker?" asked the man incredulously. "Oh no, I'm much more than that." He pulled back his fist and with surprising strength, punched the guard in the face.   
  
The guard whimpered and clutched his cheek. A nasty gore from the ring the man was wearing had broken the skin. The blood dripped onto his blue uniform. He punched back, though with less vigor, because of the pain.  
  
He took the opportunity to open the door. He walked in side casually. The elevator door opened and he pressed the button for floor five. Another woman looked curiously at him.   
  
"I haven't seen you here before, have I?" she asked.  
  
He winked. "I don't know." He responded. The door opened. He stepped out and looked around.   
  
511.There it was. He opened the door. Inside, behind an oak desk was a blonde woman.  
  
She stood up smiling. The man sucked in his breath.  
  
"Yes?" she asked tapping a french manicured fingernail on the desk. "Can I do anything for you?"  
  
"I'm Lysander," he breathed. "What's your name?"  
  
"Maria Sue. "She smiled, extending a hand. He shook it.  
  
"Ms. Sue, are you familiar with the legend on the Sidus tablet?"  
  
This time he received a most dissimilar reaction. Her blue eyes hardened to a steely glint and she assumed a more stiff and suspicious pose.  
  
"Slightly. Why do you ask?" she said carefully.  
  
"How much do you know about it?" he asked.  
  
Maria spoke carefully again. "I know it's a stone tablet that supposedly gives riddles to the holder in order for him or her to achieve their greatest desire."  
  
"Do you know a dark haired woman named Belladonna?"  
  
Maria shook her head.  
  
"Anyone named Aconite?"  
  
She shook her head again.  
  
"Sorrel?"  
  
"What is this, twenty questions?" she snapped irritably. "Get to the point, Mr.- "  
  
"Calun." He cut in smoothly. "The point is, I need your help."  
  
"It depends."  
  
"Well, I'm trying to find these people. They might have information on the whereabouts of the Sides Tablet and related objects."  
  
"Really?" Maria commented apathetically, shuffling a pile of papers on her desk.  
  
"Really." Lysander Calun stared pointedly at the ceiling in vexation. "Are you willing to help?"  
  
"Fine. When do we start?" she asked with sarcasm. "Do we dress in black leather, wear masks, and sneak around at the dead of night in a deserted alleys?"  
  
"Ms. Sue, I would prefer you have a more serious attitude," he said simply.  
  
"Call me Maria. I'm sorry. I'm having a stressful day."  
  
"Apology accepted. How can I contact you?" Lysander looked rather fidgety, glancing at the door often. Maria silently handed him a business card.  
  
Lysander pocketed it and turned around. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.  
  
He walked out the back entrance to avoid the growing throng of onlookers at the front entrance staring at the injured guard and demanding questions on building safety. He caught bits of conversation walking by.  
  
"…who did it…"  
  
"…a man…"  
  
"…crazy…"  
  
So now I'm crazy, he thought bitterly.  
  
*****  
  
Flowers  
  
Belladonna was brushing her hair with a brush.  
  
"Madam, would you like anything?" asked a silver haired, silver-eyed man.  
  
"No thank you, Aconite." She answered, not taking her eyes off her reflection. "I've got everything I need. Are you checking up on Vervain often? I'm worried about that nasty scratch he's got on one cheek. Did you see it?"  
  
Aconite laughed harshly. "Vervain? He was most likely out playing in the garbage and encountered a cat." His eyes filled with malice. "I don't know why you even bother to keep the fool."  
  
"Now, now." Belladonna set down the brush. "He's got his uses."  
  
"It depends on your description of "uses". Do you mean uses as in messing up all our plans and never being there when you need him?"  
  
"Aconite! You may leave." She stood up gracefully and went to the closet. "Go." She said in a voice muffled by all the jackets. "Bring in Arnica and Vervain. She'll be able to help."  
  
He scampered off sulkily.  
  
A few minutes later, there was a timid knock at the door.  
  
"Come in," Belladonna said. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's me and Arnica." The door opened. In the doorway was a pudgy man with unremarkable brown hair and brown eyes. Next to him stood an annoyed looking woman wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse.  
  
"This better be the last time today you need healing." She said. "I'm sick of this routine." She sighed. "Aconite gets me, I get you, we go to Belladonna, I heal you and you get hurt all over again." She emphasized the last few words.  
  
"Sorry, sorry." He said grumpily not sounding sorry at all.  
  
She sighed impatiently and waved her hands over the scratch. "Do you have any of that salve left?" she asked Belladonna.  
  
"Let me go check." She rummaged through the drawers on the desk and produced a red tube. "Here you go. How much do you need?"  
  
"Not too much. It's not as bad as the time he got attacked by rabid dogs." Arnica said with a straight face. "I'll say, a little of the salve and a little hocus pocus, he'll be perfectly fine in an hour or so. Assuming he doesn't go off and get attacked by a swarm of bees or something." She sighed. "You're very trouble-prone, did you know that?"  
  
"Who doesn't?" he snapped. "I wish you would stop acting that way."  
  
"What way?"  
  
"You know what I'm talking about." he replied in exasperation.  
  
"No I don't. Be quiet, I'm putting the salve on, you know."  
  
He winced slightly as she gently spread it over the injured area. "That hurts." He said. "Is there anyway to heal without any hurt?"  
  
"No pain, no gain." She reminded him absently. She whispered some undistinguishable words over the wound and blew on it. "You all fixed up now. Go run off and keep out of trouble like a good little boy. I have to have a word with Belladonna."  
  
He scowled. "I am not a little boy!" he cried indignantly. "I'm just, just, --"  
  
"Just what?" Arnica smirked. "Just a little boy who happens to get hurt more than any another person in the group?"  
  
"Oh, put a sock in it." He slammed the door after him.  
  
"Now," Arnica said in a more serious tone. "I have to discuss some business with you on the tablet."  
  
"I know already. Aconite told me this morning." she looked grave. "He said he had discovered there indeed was a handful of immortals. Four, to be exact."  
  
"It's not that. What I wanted to say is that I've found a way to turn the tablet's function back on." Her eyes took on a bright gleam. "Imagine, we could have our heart's desires."  
  
"Arnica!" Belladonna scolded. "You know that the Sidus Tablet doesn't always make you happy! Remember the old man who's desire was to start a great commotion and have everyone know who he was?"  
  
"I know. And he ended up being a convict and getting the death sentence. I know." Arnica looked miffed. "I don't see what the big deal is. If you can't solve the riddle it gives you, too bad!"  
  
"I know it's a big temptation, but I can't let you take the risk." Belladonna looked at the clock. "Has Amaranth returned yet?"  
  
"Yeah. She came back with a big, silly grin on her face and a bundle of lurid flowers." She looked disgusted. "But she got the herbs I needed." She added hastily when she saw Belladonna's expression.  
  
" I told that girl to stop bringing in those confounded flowers!" she half-shouted. "She knows I'm allergic!"  
  
Arnica remained silent while Belladonna aired out the windows. " I can't stand flowers." She said to herself.  
  
*****  
  
Voices  
  
"…be a good boy…"  
  
"…don't forget…"  
  
"…never, ever…"  
  
  
Harry woke up and rubbed his eyes. He had been sleeping in something foul-smelling. He stood up and swore. He could remember nothing from yesterday, only being sleepy and some hazy memory of who he was.  
  
But now he had no time to ponder this. He was too busy trying to get rid of the awful smell, the rot that enveloped him. In front of him was filth, complete and utter filth. Precetal didn't even know had he had managed to sleep in it. There was a great assortment of colours and smells before him- the banana peel, empty milk cartons, bits of leftover broccoli, and someone's leftover dinner. And smells.   
  
The smell was the part he couldn't stand. To have to walk around surrounded by the stench of garbage was his idea of torture. After all, didn't he pride himself in looking presentable?  
  
Who was he again? Trying to focus his swimming head was painful. Who was he? What was he? Where was he?  
  
He looked around again, this time paying attention to the sounds around him. There were people rushing about, there were cars and buses, and there were shops. Where was he? He decided to concentrate first on who exactly he was.  
  
There was a sudden jolt pain on his chest. No, this was all too familiar. His eyes filled with tears but they refused to fall. Voices, they haunted him. Could he live without hearing them?  
  
A teenage girl with bushy brown hair lay on a bed with her eyes wide open.  
  
"Can you hear me, Herm?"  
  
"Harry, be a good boy for me, will you?"  
  
"Of course! I will, I promise."  
  
"Remember, don't forget who you are like I did. Never forget."  
  
"I won't. I promise."  
  
"Don't promise me. Make sure you don't."  
  
"Don't worry, I won't."  
  
"And never, ever-"  
  
"What, Herm? Never ever what?"  
  
It was the unfinished sentence that wouldn't let him forget. It was the idea that he would never know what was meant to be spoken after. Never, ever. It was all he heard these days. He would never, ever know what she was going to say. The irony of it all made him laugh. I will never, ever know what she was going to say after never, ever, he always thought. It didn't quite cheer him up. It was just a gruesome way to make fun of the unspoken words, to ridicule them.  
  
"What are you doing here?" the voice jerked him back to his senses. The voices in his head faded like a badly tuned radio.   
  
"I- I dunno." He answered nervously. "I just woke up here." He finally got a good look at the person who was talking to him. It was a man of around 30, probably more, he guessed. But then again, he had always been horrible at guessing ages.  
  
"You just woke up here?" the man's voice was high and disbelieving. "You just fell asleep in a pile of garbage without knowing?"  
  
Harry flinched. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Well, you don't exactly smell like a walking perfume factory, is that's what you mean." he answered matter-of-factly. "What's your name?"  
  
"Harry," he said.  
  
"I'm Lysander. What's your last name and how old are you?"  
  
"I'm nineteen and-" his voice faltered. "I don't know my last name." He finished.  
  
"You sound stupid. First of all, you have no clue on how you fell asleep in a pile of garbage and now you're telling me you can't remember your last name? Do you receive any head injuries last night?"  
  
"If I did, I wouldn't remember, would I?" he answered grumpily. He decided he didn't like the stranger much. He gingerly touched his head. "Nope, my head doesn't hurt." He thought again. "Besides the headache from the smell of the garbage." he added as an afterthought.  
  
"That explains a lot. Come with me." The man started to drag him away from the garbage. Harry was too tired to argue.  
  
"Whatever you say," he mumbled, the dull pounding ache in his head intensifying.  
  
*****  
  
Of cats and courage  
  
  
Rafusia stared in shock at the person standing in front of her.  
  
"But I swear I didn't ask for 7 cats from the pound!" she said in something more than dismay. "I don't like cats at all!"  
  
He didn't look sympathetic. Perhaps he had heard this line too often. "Sign here." He pushed a clipboard under her nose. "To prove you've got 'em." He added unhelpfully.  
  
In defeat, she signed her loopy signature on the line. "Are you sure you have the right address?" she asked hopefully.  
  
The man glanced at the street sign again. "Yep. 437 Black Cat Drive." He chuckled. "It makes sense."  
  
"It does not!" she declared indignantly. He just shrugged and walked back to the truck waiting by the curb. Rafusia sighed and opened the box.  
  
Inside, there were five cats and two kittens whining piteously. All except the black cat in the corner who was glowering at her. She looked at it in dislike and closed the box.  
  
"Now what am I going to do?" she said out loud. "I'm stick with seven cats which I didn't order, someone sent them to me, one cat doesn't like me, at least I don't think it doesn't because it looked in a mean way at me. I have to feed them, I don't know how, I can't afford to feed seven cats…" she trailed off and sunk against the wall. I going crazy, she thought. I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy…  
  
The doorbell rang and Rafusia groaned inwardly. She got up and opened the door. A delivery man stood there with large bags of cat food piled around him.  
  
"Hullo!" he said quite cheerily. "Are you Rafusia Langley?" he asked. When she nodded, he seemed relieved. "Good. I the cat food for you." He pointed at the massive stacks of bags.  
  
"But- but-" she started. He wasn't paying attention.  
  
"Hey Tim! Could you give me a hand here? We need to get the cat food inside!" he called to the driver.  
  
The delivery man and Tim started to drag the cat food inside.  
  
"But I didn't order any cat food!" she finally managed to spit out. "I never ordered anything at all!"  
  
"Well," replied Tim cheerfully. "You now are the proud owner of 20 free bags of cat food." He looked at the label. "Correction. 20 free bags of Meow Mix Cat Food."  
  
"You don't happen to have any cats, do you?" asked the delivery man.  
  
"That's the thing! I just got seven cats from the pound I didn't ask for!" Rafusia was furious.  
  
He looked understanding. "Well, now you can feed them!" he declared in the same cheerful manner. "Right Rob?" he asked the delivery man.  
  
They both laughed and headed back to delivery truck.  
  
"Bye!" called Tim. "Good luck!" and with that, they were gone.   
  
Rafusia sank against the wall and groaned again. At least she didn't have to worry about feeding the cats now. She got up again and took out a few bowls from the kitchen to pour the cat food in. She opened the box, placed the dishes in front of them and jumped back.  
  
The cats sniffed the bowls and started to eat. Good, that's one thing done now, she thought.   
  
The phone rang that second. The cats, so immersed in their eating, didn't look up. She picked up the telephone.  
  
"Hello?" she said wearily.  
  
"Hello Rafusia." A voice said at the other side. It was well-bred voice, pleasant to listen to.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I sent you the cats and the food." Rafusia nearly dropped the phone.  
  
She bit her tongue to keep from swearing. "Why the he- why did you do that?" she asked.  
  
"I have my reasons. This isn't the reason I'm calling you. I want to tell that the cats aren't ordinary cats. They each have special talents."  
  
"What, kill each other, have babies and get run over by trucks?" she asked in mock seriousness. "What other talents? Let's see, the black one can open its mouth, the ginger one can fleas, and the grey one can kill the WHOLE BLOODY BUNCH!" she shouted.   
  
"Shut up and listen to me. As I was telling you, they aren't ordinary cats." The person paused.  
  
Rafusia gave a short snort of disbelief. "Listen, whoever you are, I don't appreciate having to support seven other critters beside myself. So why don't you come over and pick up the cats and train them yourself."  
  
"I'm sorry, that's not possible." The person sounded regretful. "I would if I could, but I can't. You don't know it, but you have a special gift with animals. Cats specifically."   
  
Rafusia was ready to hang up the phone. "Just make your point."  
  
"Right, all you have to do is to feed the cats each day. Play with them, make sure they trust you. I'll call you again when the time comes."  
  
"When does the time come?" asked Rafusia.  
  
"Listen, I've got to go."  
  
"Wait, I-" but the person had already hung up, all she heard was the dial tone. She cursed softly and threw the phone on the ground. The cats looked up in alarm.  
  
"Stop that!" the cat seemed to hiss softly. "It hurts my ears." Rafusia went to bang her head against the wall.   
  
"Great!" she said aloud. "I'm hearing cats talk now. How lovely!"   
  
She waved her hand energetically in front of the grey cat. "Hi!" she said loudly. "I come in peace!"  
  
Again, the cat hissed. "I do not trust you yet. There are not many of your kind but a feline can never be too careful." The other cats seemed to nod.   
  
The black cat just glowered. Rafusia decided she would pretend she could talk to cats. "What do you mean, my kind?"  
  
"I mean humans that have the gift of understanding us." The cat preened itself. "You may refer to me as Grey Cat."  
  
"Gee, that's hard to remember." Rafusia thought. "What are the names of the other cats?"  
  
He extended a paw to each cat he was talking about. He pointed to the ginger cat. "That's Ginger Cat." He turned toward another. "That's Amber Cat." He turned again. "That's Tabby Cat." Another extended paw. "Orange Cat." Turn. "Lemonese Cat." Grey Cat paused. "And that is Black Cat." There was a way he said it, with both fear and respect, suggested that Black Cat had some sort of power.   
  
Ginger Cat padded softly over to Rafusia. "Now what is your name?" she asked plainly.  
  
"Rafusia."  
  
She smiled. "Ah, the mistress of cats. Pleased to meet you." She   
laced her paws forward as if stretching and pulled them back again. Rafusia interpreted this as a type of cat bow.  
  
"Mistress of cats?" she asked. Black Cat stood up and padded over to her to. He had a throaty voice.  
  
"Would you like to hear the legend?" he asked. "You may better understand your position.  
  
"Sure." Rafusia replied. Black Cat cleared his throat and began.  
  
*****  
  
Mistress of Cats  
  
  
"The dark of the wood is a mysterious place. It holds all secrets, yet tells them to all who care to hear. The dark of the wood is often not heard, it's secrets not understood for they are not presented in the ordinary fashion but in riddles.   
  
In the dark of the wood, there is a stone. The stone had been there since the beginning of time. The stone absorbs the secrets and stores them. And in the very middle of the stone, there is a substance so precious, it cannot be described nor spoken of.  
  
This substance had not seen the day of light, it had never been seen by anyone or anything.  
  
The cats were worried about the stone for others wanted to get it. But soon, their attention was diverted when one cat died. Its death was clearly not natural and the cats mourned for seven days and seven nights, as was the custom. Each cat was purified in the lake and they all traveled to the dark of the wood.  
  
They wanted to find and take the stone and hide it, but guarding the entrance was a sphinx, a lion with a woman's face.  
  
"Ah, my first visitor in seven thousand years." She said tiredly. Those who seek the stone are famously unsuccessful. Those who care to protect it are famously cursed."  
  
The cats were frightened. "How so?" asked one.  
  
"There is a oracle who predicted that one day, seven would live, one would die, six would enter and none would leave. I can see you are the six that enter."  
  
The cats were determined to get the stone. "Could you let us in?" asked a cat.  
  
"I will, I must, and I can." And she stepped aside. The cats entered puzzled with the lack of riddle. In the middle was a large stone.  
  
"How do we get the middle out?" wondered a cat. She was answered by a crack of lightening. The stone had split in half. The cats were uneasy. Nothing could be this simple.   
  
They went ahead and removed the core. As they carried it, an image of a young woman blossomed out.  
  
She spoke, "I am the mistress of cats. I watch over you, I see no harm comes to you. I grant you nine lives instead of one. You will not exit the dark of the woods as six, but as spirits. Thus, six will enter but none will leave. The seventh is already a spirit and in my care. He will return to you when the stone is once again active. You will need him then. In time, you will be put in the care of the next mistress of cats. All mistresses are destined to be named Rafusia, after the original mistress of cats, me." She sunk back in the stone.  
  
The cats went through the gate and as she promised, they turned into spirits. The seventh cat watched them through the eyes of the sphinx."  
  
  
Black Cat sat there expectantly. It took a while for Rafusia to process the information.  
  
"So you're saying I'm the next mistress of cats? That's ridiculous!" she cried.  
  
"Is it?" asked Amber Cat. "You can speak to us, your name is Rafusia as the legend said and you even resemble the mistress of cats." She eyed Rafusia's fiery hair.  
  
"And it appears you resemble the original mistress of cats, too." He commented in an amused voice. "About the same face, hair and eyes, I say."  
  
Rafusia had the sudden, desperate urge to run to a mirror.  
  
"Blucky." She said.  
  
"Excuse me?" asked Black Cat.  
  
"Blucky. It's my own private word I say when I'm especially annoyed. Like now." She added.  
  
Black Cat seemed to grin even wider. "Blucky is the original mistress of cat's annoying distant cousin."  
  
"Let me guess. The other cousins were named Fluffy, Yucky, Ucky, Uh and Ack."   
  
"As of matter of a fact, you're right." Black Cat seemed to be laughing.  
  
"Oh no… Go swipe your little paw at me, or whatever you do, I need to know I'm dreaming." She started to pinch herself. "Ow!" she cried.  
  
Black Cat swiped his paw at her bare ankle and a few lines of red appeared, but instantly, they closed up again and left was just a smooth, whole piece of skin.  
  
"That's odd," Rafusia stared at her ankle. "I was pretty sure you scratched me."  
  
"There was also a special prophecy for you. It stated the second mistress could not be harmed by her kind, could communicate with her kind and could control her kind. It makes sense. I couldn't hurt you." Black Cat jumped up onto the sofa.  
  
"What was the complete prophecy?" Rafusia asked.  
  
Black cat yawned. "I'll tell you the rest later."  
*****   



	2. Default Chapter Title

a/n: I just couldn't wait to post this and I am running out of ideas and motivation so I know this is a "bit" shorter. Thanks to all six of my reviewers who bothered to type in a line for me. Am I that predictable? ::mutters:: I'm trying to make it more Harry Potter-ish. I want to fit Draco in the next part as he's my fav character. ::Draco! Draco! Draco!:: ::calms down:: Anyway, read and review if you have any consructive critsicim, (which I love but can't spell), praise, or flames. I don't care. As long as I get  1  review (bad or good) I'll get the next part up in oh, about two weeks if you want a readable chapter over 10kb! And if it's starting to stink, TELL ME!  The Sidus Tablet- part two ***** Nowhere but here Lysander's feet ached from all the walking he had done in the past half hour. Harry was nothing but a nuisance; he kept whining and asking where they were going. He finally reached a small cabin and opened the door with a rusty old-fashioned key. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a sparsely furnished room containing only two chairs, a rickety table missing a leg and an uncomfortable looking bed. It was all covered in dust. To him, it was heaven. This was where the incessant noises of the city or the roaring of buses wouldn't bother him. Harry just looked confused. "Sit down." It came out rather hoarse. He had to get his voice back in shape. "What are we here for?" asked Harry, still confused. "I think you could help me with my quest. It's all rather interesting and since you're still young, you won't have too much trouble believing it." "Quest? What quest?" Lysander coughed. "Well, the world is not sometimes what it seems and some things happen that you may not believe. Like some people believe in aliens. Anyway, there's a legend on an object called the Sidus Tablet. The legend describes it as a magical piece of stone that gives the bearer a riddle to achieve his or her greatest desire. There's also an interesting prophecy." "You actually think I'm that stupid?" Harry stared determinedly at the opposite wall. "You're crazy." He said flatly. "Crazy? That's a bit harsh. I'm a bit unsual, yes, but crazy, no." " I still don't get why you dragged me here." "Just believe me, okay? I'm not lying. The prophecy said that the Sidus tablet would be reactivated one thousand years from the creation of it. And now is one thousand years later. Now is the time." Lysander shivered and pulled his jacket closer. No sense of it all, Echoes, History is once again replayed, A thousand fold, "How do I know you're not just some crazy lunatic that escaped the mental asylum?" Harry demanded. "Just believe me." He sounded out each syllable. "You'll see." _ Never forget, _ It is warm yet You feel cold, Why is that? The words repeated themselves meaninglessly in his head._ Never forget, It is warm, yet you feel cold, why is that? _ _Why is that?_ He kept on thinking. The words were never-ending, repeating themselves until they were nothing but a dim lull._ Why is that? Why is that? Why is that? Why is that?_ He traced his name in the thick dust of the table. Harry.. What an simple, plain name. And now he didn't know the word that should accompany it behind to complete the thought. A fragment. Heck, he was thinking in fragments. He looked again at the room he was standing in. It was a sad, lonely, forlorn sight. A man in a grey jacket sitting in a small room matching his coat. Grey, that seemed to be the only color that was in this room. The open door showed an expanse of greens and soft browns, occasional flashes of red and the limpid sky. He looked at it as if he was a little boy with his hands pressed against the cool glass of a store window in winter savoring a toy. He could see it, but he couldn't touch the scene, enter it or alter it in anyway. It was frustating, he wanted to go outside and leave the grey room but his feet were lead, rooting him down. "What's your greatest desire?" Lysander asked suddenly. Harry was taken aback. "My greatest desire? I don't know." What could I tell him?, he thought. That what I really want is to know what was going to be said after "Never, ever"? ***** All Dressed Up Maria Sue looked worriedly at the swinging door. Great, one more thing I have to do, she thought. Search for some obscure people that I don't have any idea of. Just great. The phone rang and she picked it up. "Hello Maria. This is just a reminder of the reception we're having at eight tonight. Remember, formal wear." She recognized it immediately as Lauren Asle, her secretary. She wasn't too bright and acted rather like a schoolgirl at times but she was always willing to do her work. "Yes, I know." She replied with no enthusiasm. "Black, grey or white dress, preferably not low cut, at least knee length, matching or coordinating heels, not above three inches, I know the rap." "You forgot we have to wear gloves." Maria could hear her always present little smile. God, it got annoying sometimes. She took a sip of coffee and gagged involuntarily. v "Lauren! You didn't put anything in my coffee! I swear, if you do this again, I'll tell Mr. Myer about so he can give you a royal chewing out!" "I'm so sorry I forgot!" she cried sounding genuinely sorry. "I promise I won't do it again!" She just muttered an, "Uh huh," and hung up. What a nasty day. She grabbed her coat and went into the parking lot. There was a large group of people up front. She went up to a woman in a salmon pink suit peering anxiously over the heads of the people in front of her. "Excuse me?" she asked. "Why is everyone here?" "They say the guard was attacked." She looked rather faint. "My husband works in this building." "Oh. I 'm sure he's fine." She commented politely. She turned around and went back to her car. On the way home, she thought about Lysander Calun. There was something different about him that she couldn't put her finger on. She frowned and concentrated on the car in front of her. She squinted to read the bumper sticker. _Life is cruel. Deal with it._ _Wow, as if we didn't know that already,_ she thought sarcastically._ I must sound like a complete grump. What is with me these days?_ She pulled up in front of an apartment building and parked her car. The door, as usual, was squeaking and groaning. She shifted all her weight against it to push it open. Inside was a neat, trim hall with a few paintings hanging on the wall. The doors were all a matching shade of neutral beige and the bold numbers on each were clean and bright. The rug was a muted tone of blue, matching the vases and what furniture there was. Small, delicate flowers were arranged with the utmost care in the vases and each was identical to the next. Not only was the scene perfect looking, but it also made Maria very irritated. _Everything is so perfect in here. Nothing is ever out of place. I feel like tipping over one of those perfect blue vases with those perfect flowers onto the perfect blue carpet so the perfect scene is ruined._ She pressed the button next to the elevator door and waited impatiently. The door finally opened and when she stepped in, she pressed for floor three. The doors closed and the elevator rose very slowly. It seemed to take ten minutes. Room 393 was to her left and she fumbled for the keys. The door opened with little difficulty and she promptly bounced on the couch like a little girl. The springs squeaked in a comforting, familiar way and she lay back, not minding that her perfectly coifed hair was mussed. _I'll eat a quick snack then I'll shower. After that, I'll get dressed and by that time, I'll drive myself to the office._ Snack. She rose reluctantly and shuffled to the tiny kitchen. She picked out a red apple, checking for blemishes. The cabinet door was stuck, and she wrestled with it for a few minutes to pick out a package of microwave popcorn. She put that in, set the timer and washed the apple. When the popping slowed, she took out the bag, handling it carefully. A burst of buttery, salty hot air met her face when she ripped open the top. Maria immediately grabbed a handful and stuffed it in her mouth as best as she could. After polishing off the apple and popcorn, she jumped for a quick shower and chose an outfit. She went through her modest wardrobe before she finally decided on a very plain black dress and very plain heels along with very plain black gloves. _I must look like I'm going to someone's funeral. Black, black, black._ She blow dried her hair, combed it and pulled her jacket off the couch. _Look out world. Here I come._ ***** Councils and Cold Belladonna and seven other people dressed in blue and black were seated around a long, oval table. No one was smiling or talking for the simple fact it wasn't allowed. "I declare this meeting has begun. Is there any new business?" Belladonna knew there wouldn't be. "First, four immortals have been discovered, along with the knowledge one of them- we're not sure which- have intention of finding the Tablet. Is there any suggestions or comments on this issue?" A few people raised their hands. "Do we know the location of the four?" asked one. "No, Burdock. We just know that there are two males and two females. That's all." A second person stood up. "Is the location where we hid the Tablet secure?" "I believe it is." Belladonna automatically fiddled with a fine silver thread around her neck. Arnica stood up last. "Is there any extra precautions we can take so that Vervain can live without a fatal wound from battle with one of them?" A few snickered. "Arnica, sit down." She didn't. "Are you an immortal?" At this, Belladonna's face turned an ashy white. "Arnica!" Belladonna pointed to the doorway. "Meet me in me room." Her voice was hard and sharp. "Now!" Arnica got up looking befuddled and waked out the door dismally. "Meeting dismissed." She said crisply. "Return to your usual stations until dinner." Everyone pushed in the chairs and walked out the door; Belladonna behind them. She took the elevator and opened the door. Arnica was istting on the bed as if she was awaiting an execution. "What did I do wrong?" she burst out finally. "All I did was ask you if you were an immortal!" "Arnica," Belladonna's tone was the one people usually reserved for a particularly stupid, young child. "Do you know anything about immortals? Anything at all?" "I know they live forever." Arnica stared very hard at the quilt pattern. "Do you know anything about the legends and curses about them?" "No." she answered. "Arnica, not only do they live forever but they also there are always four of them. Two males and two females, as we said before. Always. That may seem obvious, but an immortal can die. Rather, be turned into a mortal and then dying." Arnica's forehead creased in concentration. "How can that happen?" she asked finally. "The Sidus Tablet can make that happen. We know it can make someone immortal so it certainly can reverse it." "Reverse it?" she echoed. "Why would anyone want to reverse it?" "There are some things you don't know until you've experienced them." she answered simply. "But I still don't know why you were so angry when I asked you if you were an immortal!" "Immortal is not always good. Also, immortals always know too much and they are always untrustworthy and sneaky. That's why." "Oh." She said in a small voice. "You may be excused." Belladonna smiled at her. "Vervain will be needing your help soon." As soon as Arnica left, she let out the breath she was holding and pulled out the silver chain from around her neck. It was a small, circular and seemed to be made out of a murky, grayish glass. Little specks of silver dotted the outside and it gleamed softly. She sighed and dropped it back in again. After dinner, Belladonna retired early to bed. When she closed her eyes and began to snore softly, a teenage boy slipped quietly in. An onlooker would have seen him looking nervously around and unfastening the chain. In the hall behind him was a man. He handed it to him after closing the behind him and the man turned it over in his hands. On the back was a smudge. He squinted closely and saw it was actually slightly smeared ink. _The Key_


	3. Default Chapter Title

***** 

_Enter_

Maybe, he thought. Maybe if I combine the unicorn hair and the boiled scale, I'll get it..., he thought. Sweeping the bangs out of his face as it had been quite a time since he had gotten a hair cut, Draco yawned and stood up. He was in a room- more precisely, what looked like a mad scientist's laboratory. The beakers and pots of mysterious foamy liqiuds bubbled away on the burner and a variety of jars with assorted objects suspended in them were stored away in a heavy oak cabinet with a thick glass wall in front of it. 

Draco strode over to a coat rack and pulled a black cloak off it and swung it around his shoulders. He yawned again and opened the door, complete pitch blackness greeted him. 

"Lumos," he muttered quietly. The beam of yellow light didn't seem to penetrate the darkness, but he went ahead anyway. It would soon became apparent to anyone who was watching that he was walking through some sort of complicated maze, full of twists, turns, dead ends and charmed spots where you could only walk in circles. The walls were all painted black and as he went up a few flights of stairs, the blackness seemed less and more gray instead. Finally, he reached a door that was easily unnoticed by the casual passerby and walked out, though not before magically locking it. 

The air outside was slightly musty, like it had been hiding in the closet for too long. Draco walked with a easy gait, appearing very relaxed and unsuspicious. Inside, he was alert, catching any small sound or twig breaking. He didn't have to turn his head around as he had charmed two hidden eyes on the back of his head; a special spell that he himself developed and was quite fond of. The eyes on the back of his head blinked and looked around as he hummed softly. He walked through a couple of alleys and backyards until he stopped dead. 

This time his head swiveled around slowly and and after a moment, he said softly, "Who's there?" When no one answered, he started walking again, the eyes on the back of his head darting around frantically looking for any shadow or sign of life. He walked through another alleyway and this time, pivoted on the spot. What he saw was unmistakably very familiar. 

"Potter? Is that you?" he said incredulously. The green eyes and black hair were very obvious and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw that scar on the head, that famous scar that Voldemort gave him when he was one. The same Voldemort that was now again weakened and plotting his return from the forests of South America as it was rumoured. 

The boy looked quizzically at him. "I'm Harry. I was just out for a stroll. Nice night, isn't it? Who're you?" 

Draco just looked at him like he had gone crazy. "You remember me? Your worst enemy from Hogwarts?" When the boy still looked blank, he continued. "Your birthday is in July, your mum and dad were killed by You-Know-Who, You went to Hogwarts and your best friends were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Hermione died in your seventh year from some diesease and you then went off grieving and was never heard from again." 

A spark of remembering lit up in his eyes and was quickly snuffed out. "I don't know why something you said seems familiar... Everyday, I remember less and less and I'm afraid someday soon I won't remember who I am or what's my name or- or- anything. I just woke up and poof, all I know is that someone I loved died and that I'm Harry and that I'm nineteen. I'm afraid to wake up and find I don't know anything, that I don't know where I am or what I am or anything about the world." He finished miserably and stared at the ground. 

"Look," Draco said fiercely. "I know who you are and I'm pretty sure what happened to you. Do you happen to find a wand anywhere on you?" Harry looked as if he had gone crazy. "Er- Never mind. Did you find a stick of wood on you?" 

Harry looked at him strangely. "As a matter of a fact I did. I found it in my pocket and left it there." 

"Think I'm crazy for now, think anything you want, but I know you're a wizard. I'm a wizard. Here, I'll prove it to you." Draco showed him his lit up wand. 

"Interesting flashlight," he commented absently. 

Draco groaned. "Here, I'll apparate." Harry opened his mouth but Draco had already said "Apparatus" and disappeared. "Funny guy, disappearing and all. He's a really good magician." He got on his knees and felt around for a trap door somewhere or something that would allow someone to disappear suddenly. 

Something heavy fell on top of him and said cursed. "What are you here for? Said a very cross Draco. They untangled themselves and stood up glaring at each other. Finally, Draco burst out laughing. 

"What's so funny?" asked Harry, his feelings bruised. He wasn't used to people laughing at him and it made him feel rather vulnerable and weak. And no one likes to feel vulnerable or weak, do they? 

Draco stopped laughing and a thoughtfull look crossed his face. "I have a potion I developed that breaks memory charms. Of course, I haven't tested it yet, which is why you'll be my guinea pig. " He grinned wickedly. "This should get you back for the time you took a picture of me in the shower and posted it all over the school." 

Utterly bewildered, Harry followed Draco back through many backyards and dark alleyways, past shops and restaurants until they reached a brick wall. He tapped on it and said something softly. A panel of brick opened and they both crawled in. 

Draco led him through the maze and once Harry got lost as he accidently stepped onto an Endless Circle. Trying to follow Draco, he only succeeded in walking forward and kept on walking, hoping to catch up. He didn't seem to be going anywhere, and after 10 minutes of walking, he finally sat down. 

Draco was talking. "See, you have to avoid curved paths. They're Endless Circles. and the metal things on top? They're guillotines and if you walk under one, it'll slice you clean down the middle. Interesting, isn't it, Harry? Harry?" Draco turned around and seeing that Harry indeed was not there, promptly walked back and checked all the Endless Circles. Harry was sitting on the path of one, sniffling. 

"Get up, you prat! Stay on the path and don't walk any metal objects or curved paths. I'll get you off, just wait a sec." Draco fumbled around in his pockets and came up with a wand. 

"Erisus Erend," he said and pulled Harry off the Endless Circle. 

***** 

Potato Chips 

I wish cats were better company, Rafusia thought. I wish they were interested in more things besides being petted, eating, sleeping and studying the Book of Laws For Felines (Edition 5,726). It contained the most boring rules she could think of, like the grooming of whiskers and which was the best way to jump on the couch. 

Yesterday she had taken a trip to the library. Now there were several stacks of books on the care of cats, everything from thick, musty leather bound volumes on the subject with brown and wrinkled pages to simple pamphlets. She opted for the pamphlets, leafing through them and occasionally make little cute "Ooohh," noises at the pictures of kittens. 

The cats were lounging and sleeping. Most were sleeping on the few couches in hte room but Ginger Cat was sitting on Rafusia's lap and purring. She was patting the top of her head and muttering to herself as Ginger Cat continued to purr. Still muttering, she stood up, and bobbed her hand up and down near her waist, patting an invisible cat. Ginger Cat gave a yowl and glared in a hurt way at her leaving figure, still petting the invisible cat and muttering. 

Rafusia started to open some tins and bags of cat food. She emptied them into bowls and uncertain how to call them, she decided to try what she had seen on t.v. 

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty!" she said. The cats contiued to lounge or sleep. She tried a different tactic. "Dinner's ready!" she called. Still no response. After a few more tries, she finally got their attention with a simple, "Food!" which seemed to rouse them from their sleep. 

As they ate, Lemonese Cat looked up. "Aren't you going to eat?" he asked. 

"No, I'm on a diet. I'm too fat. And don't talk with your mouth full. And keep your elbows off the table." 

Looking affronted, Lemonese Cat returned to his bowl, all the while making little grunts of disgust. "Keep your elbows off the table! Don't talk with your mouth full!" he mimicked in a high, silly voice. "I'm too fat! Eww!" 

When the cats were finished, she cleaned the bowls and washed them gingerly. Why do does cat food smell so bad? How do they eat this stuff? Of course, having skipped dinner, she opened the refridgerator and looked in, hoping to find some wonderfully tasty and delicious food without saturated fat or LDL or- or- something healthy. 

She looked in the pantry and found some potato chips. To ease her guilt, she thought of good things about potato chips. Like they were made out of vegatables. And this kind didn't use partially hydrogenated soybean oil. 

Before she knew it, the back was empty and all her hand came up with was a hanful of greasy bits. looking around like someone would start scoding her, she threw the empty bag away- but she still felt hungry. Rafusia ate of jar of yogurt and stared at the blank t.v. screen. 

I won't eat anything tomorrow to make up for the chips, she thought. 

***** 

Lysander 

Lysander was looking at the small black clock on the table missing a leg. Harry said he was going out for a stroll and woudn't be gone long but the faint streaks of pink and orange in the east were beggining to appear, yet still not sign of him. 

He was especially worried because he knew he needed him- needed him more than anyone knew. Without him, there would be no end to the wandering Lysander Calun, not hope for any end to suffering. Some wanted to be immortal, but Lysander had a very different wish. Living forever isn't all that cracked up as it's supposed to be, and a _end_, something to end something, was all he looked for. When the tablet had given him immortality, it hadn't been his desire. The tablet was simply balancing out the number of four immortals- two female, two male. And Lysander had been unfortunate enough to be on the end of the deal. He thought of it as a curse. If the sun blew up and the Earth became a frozen wasteland or a nuclear war took place, I would still live. If the world was blasted to bits, I would simply float around the sun, forever. 

Forever. 

There was no getting out of forever. Unless- Lysander puonded his fist on the table, causing it to collapse and a thick wall of dust to come up. He stood sneezing until it settled down and he knew that if he lost Harry, it would be forever. He knew it the moment he saw him, he knew that he was one of Them. 

The ones that could set him free. He grandmother was one. She had stayed up late in the night to tell him that there were people who could do magic, all kinds of extraordinary and wonderful things. He would lean in and stare at her in awe, for he knew his precious Gram _never_ lied. She would lean in too and whisper so that no one could hear. 

"And you know what, little one?" He would shake his head. It was part of their game. "Of course you don't know, but I'll tell you." She'd pause for a dramatic effect even though he knew what was coming. "I'm one of them. A witch." He gasped and she would touch his nose with her finger and lean back laughing. 

She even proved it to him one day when his parents left for a wedding and decided it would be too much of a bother to bring him along. 

"Now look Lysander. If you're good today, I'll show you some magic, okay?" He knew she was bribing him because he normally ran around and yelled and screamed, trying to get her to play with him as she limped and hobbled behind him trying to calm him down. But he dearly loved her and most of all, he wanted to see the mysterious magic, perhaps he could do some too. 

After dinner, Gram appeared in a set of long flowing robes made of a deep blue. She patted them fondly. 

"Been in my trunk for too long," she said. "These are my dress robes." Then Gram pulled out a funny looking stick and pointed it at their table. 

"Engorgio!" she boomed. To his amazed eyes, the table swelled until the the flowers in the vase brushed the ceiling. 

"Reducio," and the table was back to normal. Gram looked back at him, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You liked that, don't you? I wasn't sure if I could still do it, make magic I mean. It's been so long... " She trailed off and stared dreamily. 

And that's where the memory ended. That was the part he remembered best, the rest was in bits and pieces like snapshots, showing the action but not the whole story. 

But if Harry didn't come back... There was no hope. He didn't know why he thought that, but something instinctly told him all hope was lost if he didn't return. 

He stared back at the sky, the brilliant oranges hurting his eyes. 

**** 

Temper tantrum 

Arnica found Vervain in his room, sniffling. He looked up at her and croaked out a, "Lo," and went back sniffling. She saw he had been crying for a long time and his face was splotchy and alarming shades of bright red covered his face. 

"What happened to your face?" she asked, rather annoyed. 

At this, he burst out into hysterical bawling, rolling on the floor and beating his fist like a two year old denied his favorite toy. 

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" He screamed out. He continued to scream, yell and pound his fists. Arnica glanced nervously at the door; Belladonna wouldn't be happy. Vervain eventually calmed down enough to tell her what happened. 

_The day was slow, besides the regular workers coming in at morning, there was no more than a few visitors to deal with. After lunchtime, Vervain brought a cup of coffee along with him to the door to fight off the effects of drowsiness. He squared his shoulders, made his face look awake and impartial, and finally straightened out his guard uniform as he saw a visitor approach. _

His spirits sank when he saw it was no more than some indescript man wearing a rather battered looking jacket and dragging along like he didn't have a care in the world. Probaly one of those bums pretending they were rich. 

As he got closer, Vervain saw his eyes were fathoms deep and instead of the usual deep blue or black eyes, they were quite ordinary, like his own besides the fact he felt like he needed to surface for air when he stared into them too long. 

The man came over and when he asked for name and identification and he failed to present any, Vervain became more and more nervous. This job usually didn't involve a lot of complications, usually he just stood there felling important in his blue suit and badge, admitting people. But this one he couldn't admit. And it didn't look like this one would leave without a fight, either. 

It finally ended when the man punched him, the blood trickling down his face and him remembering to whisper hoarsely into the walkie talkie that he had been attacked. And there was the shame of not doing his job, of letting the man get in the building and he felt more awful than ever- what was a guard who let unidentified strangers into the building. Fired guards, that's what. 

And then there were the people crowding around, and he thought their faces were jeering at him, the head of building shaking his head and alerting the people in the building, the worried wives looking at him with hatred and something he couldn't describe, just as a burning, sick feeling. 

Arnica looked at him with a odd look on her face. "And?" 

"And what?" He said crossly, hiccupping. 

"That's all? That's what you were crying over?" 

Vervain looked outraged. He jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You don't know what it feels like. You just strut around thinking, "Oh, I'm so great, Vervain is so pathetic, when will Belladonna promote me to head? Oh, I better go lick her shoes now!" 

Arnica glared at him for a second, and turned around and stomped away. --fini-- 

"To read is normal, to review, divine." And I quote snitch who quoted Verbum. 


End file.
